


Fresh Baked

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warm smile like sunshine and cookies fresh out of the ovens. Laughter he knows as certainly as his skin knew the feeling of a near permanent light dusting of flour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fresh Baked

To be honest, Wash had everything he wanted out of life. 

He had good friends. Okay, so when he thought about it the people he had gone to school with and called 'friends' might not be the best examples of such relationships. Tucker turned everything into a sex joke—or a proposition if he was around women—in a way that made Wash want to punch him. Caboose was insanely sweet but unbelievably naïve and that led to Wash pitying him him more than anything when he watched Caboose turn his attention toward the Church brothers. Leonard, the older of the Church twins, clearly had a thing for Caboose and was just enough of a stupid asshole for him to constantly fuck that up despite his brother Luke—who had gone as Epsilon since the second grade for reasons beyond fathoming—trying to make it work out by posing as Leonard to cheer Caboose up. The only problem was that everyone know that Epsilon had feelings for Caboose himself, which only made things more complicated when he was legitimately trying to help his twin in a stupid, self-sacrificing way. Honestly, Epsilon was closer to a true friend, had been for most of Wash's life, and it was him who frequently suggested Wash needed more out of life, needed a man to call his own. Which, really, was why Wash thought of Maine as his best friend: Maine was quiet and never pushed like Epsilon did. 

He had a great family. Who could complain about a mother who was a leading professional chef and a father that was a captain in the Air Force? Sure it meant he didn't see them as much as he would have like, but he knew the arrangement was better than the Church household—Leonard Sr. was the world's largest ass and had been long before his wife had died—where the twins and their older sister had a relationship just short of openly hostile with their almost absentee parent. And honestly he had it worlds better than Maine who had been forced into moving in with his older boyfriend when his father had gone nuclear at their relationship. Something about not having any of that 'fag business' in his home, not that Wash thought Maine and D had gotten anywhere near physical. So really, he had a good home life. 

He even had a great job, thanks to Carolina, who had been like a sister to him since the first time Epsilon had brought him home and Leonard Sr. had shouted at him for being too noisy on the stairs. He had always loved cooking, something his mother had encouraged, and baking had always been his passion. Taking flour and water and oil and yeast and other odds and ends and making beautiful bread loaves in his free time had been a blessing. When Carolina had suggested she wanted to start a business—in part to piss off her scientifically obsessed father—Wash had suggested in an off-hand manner that he'd only be useful if she opened a bakery. He hadn't expected her to approach him on his graduation day with her gift: a silent partnership in a bakery he would help her set up and run. Carolina would handle the business side of things, the personnel management, the pricing strategies and all the details Wash would have groaned over and he could just do what he loved. Which, of course, meant baking day in and day out, and only doing things like running the counter when he damn well felt like it. 

Wash had everything he could have needed out of life. Friends, family a damn good job that he loved doing, and he was satisfied. 

“You need to get laid,” Epsilon observed as he leaned against a display case and Wash glared at him as he arranged slices of strawberry shortcake on a display tray. 

What was it going to take to convince Epsilon that he didn't need someone else?

“You need to stop leaning against my display cases or I'll be forced to tell your sister just how we end up with so many assprints on the glass,” Wash threatened as he decided he was satisfied with the display and slid it back in place before closing the case.

“I'm just saying,” Epsilon groaned as he pushed away from the glass. “You haven't been in anything remotely _resembling_ a relationship since that thing with Tucker, like, three years ago.”

“Can we _not_ talk about that?” Wash sighed as he nodded a silent greeting to Maine as the large man came out of the kitchen with a huge tray of fresh cinnamon rolls, turnovers, and other pastries to load into the cases. “Besides, don't you have to get off to class soon?”

“You _know_ I've got to stick around until _he_ shows up,” Epsilon insisted, his voice filled with amusement and suggestion as Wash pulled another empty tray to start filling it with the turnovers Maine had brought out.

“Hey, Maine?” Wash said as he arranged turnovers by their filling. His friend and favorite coworker just grunted his attention, and Wash smiled. “There seems to be a fly in my store. Remove it, would you?”

Epsilon recognized the threat when he heard it, and snatched up the stack of books he'd left on the counter, and darted for the door. He got it open just in time to hold it for a towering blond man and to shoot a self-satisfied smirk toward Wash before heading out. 

“Good morning,” the man said as he made for the counter and Wash immediately reached for a few squares of wax paper and a paper bag. It gave him an excuse to look anywhere but up into those crystalline blue eyes that always took his breath away, or that warm smile like sunshine and cookies fresh out of the ovens.

“The usual, North?” Wash asked, letting Maine take over stocking trays as he faced the frequent customer. There were so few customers he ever interacted with in a regular fashion, and the man who he knew only as North was the chief of them. He was also the most beautiful and the him that Epsilon had been waiting to see.

“Of course,” North smiled wider, and Wash didn't melt into that smile, not quite. He had more self control than that, or so he told himself. That was probably a lie considering he made sure to be out here every morning just to see North. 

Wash loaded a bag with an apple turnover and a chocolate scone, resisted the urge to slip in an extra turnover like he was tempted to do every morning, and moved straight for the register. His eyes didn't dare move to brush over the tall man's broad shoulders, or the curve of his jaw or how lovely those lips were. Doing that would only make him think about how he's certain North will taste like his morning apple turnover, still warm from the oven, with a faint touch of chocolate that would come when North would nibble at the scone that he'd admitted months before was meant for his sister's breakfast. 

“The price hasn't changed,” Wash offered as he passed the bag to North, and he had to smile as North immediately pulled the scone out and began to nibble. Still, he spared a hand to reach into those too perfectly tight jeans to pull out his wallet, flip it open, and push his card out at Wash without looking. 

“Good as ever,” North observed as Wash swiped the card and went through the familiar motions of ringing North up. “You do good work.”

“You say that every morning,” Wash pointed out, unable to help but smile at the warm feeling in his stomach that the compliment always provoked. 

“It never changes,” North offered with a wide grin as he took his card and receipt. “Even my sister likes it, which is saying something since she doesn't like much.”

“Thanks,” Wash answered, keeping the blush he felt rising at bay, even as North smiled again.

Their conversations rarely went beyond that, and sure enough North gave him a little wave as he replaced the scone in the bag and hauled out the turnover, and Wash let his eyes follow the movement of the man's hips as he made for the door. 

It chimed long before North got to it—something that never happened and Wash stared with wide eyes as he caught sight of crimson hair trailed by brown. Carolina didn't tend to show up so early, and the man with her—an old ex-boyfriend of Carolina's from high school and the other man who made Wash's heart jump into his throat— _never_ arrived so early in the morning. York started later in the day, showed up and spent nearly half an hour harassing Carolina in her office before he came out for a cinnamon roll and to flee before her wrath took over. Wash made sure to work the front as much as possible to get glimpses of the handsome man whose laughter he knew as certainly in his ears and chest as his fingers knew the proper consistency for bread dough he was kneading and his skin knew the feeling of a near permanent light dusting of flour.

Wash watched as York entered and North left and at first he didn't quite process the way York's path veered toward North abruptly. His heart processed before his head did as the two moved toward each other and York's arm reached up and wrapped around North's neck. Somehow he found Maine's hand gripping his under the counter and he was certain that if he could squeeze Maine's hand as tightly as his heart was clenching in his chest he would have broken Maine's hand as he watched the two me he had found himself falling for over the last half year kiss each other. 

This was why he didn't need a boyfriend, a small voice in Wash's mind insisted. Caring so deeply for other people only got you hurt.

* * * * * *

“You fuck!” Carolina snapped, her hand flashing out to smack upside the back of York's head. 

She hit hard, and York found himself stumbling forward a few paces as the office door slammed shut behind him. He caught himself on the folding chair Carolina kept in there for his use, and he got to his feet just in time to turn and see the look of pure fury writ plain as day on her face. 

“Woah, Caro, _you're_ the one who has told me time and time again to stay away from Wash,” York protested. “I'd think you'd be happy that I'm in a relationship with someone else.”

“It had to be _North_? You had to pick _him_? Had to _kiss_ him in front of David? Seriously, Marcus, what the fuck?”

“No one told me you had that much control over who I did and didn't sleep with. Was there fine print when we broke up that I failed to read?” York demanded as he plopped down in the chair and watched Carolina round her desk to her own spot, still glowering at him. 

“Oh, there is a _lot_ about your life you gave me control of when you first used that stupid pick up line, York,” Carolina warned him, and her slipping back to his last name probably meant something good. Or so he hoped. For all that he knew she had circled right past furious and into 'going to be murdered.' If there was one thing Carolina took more seriously than pissing off her father—and York was pretty sure that the only reason she had this shop was to do that—it was protecting her pseudo-family. 

“I don't get it, Carolina, what the hell is the big deal anyway? It was just a kiss with my boyfriend.”

Her vibrant green eyes rolled and she sighed in an exasperated way that told York from long experience that she was holding back a major lecture. Mostly because she'd decided back when they'd been dating that it was better to shout at York with small words. She'd actually told him that once. That it was more satisfying to treat him like a five year old when he was being an idiot, because she couldn't believe a grown man could be so stupid. 

“Okay, I'm going to use really small words so you can understand this, York. Wash. Likes. North.”

It still took a moment to process, thrown that blatantly in his face. As it did, as the points connected, he felt himself smiling, grinning, beaming at Carolina in a way that made her frown, and he didn't care. The possibilities were so beautiful. The chances this presented... North had mentioned something along these lines on their date last night. About how he'd been interested in Wash—another thing they shared—and hadn't been able to get anywhere. Of course York knew that it had to come down to the fact that Wash was rather oblivious when people were flirting with him, and North struck him as a subtle person, but York had been happy to not point that out. It had been too nice to watch the far away look in North's eyes, the way he had worried his lip with his teeth, the way his long fingers had tapped the table with no discernible pattern. 

“You're smiling,” Carolina observed, her voice thick with annoyance. 

York just smiled back at her and waited a long moment, watching the flashing anger of her eyes, before he dropped his own bomb. 

“North likes him.”

He watched her fists tighten, her eyes narrow, her lips curve into a little sneer in the way it did when she was angry at him. “You mean to tell me that...”

“Not only did I kiss Wash's crush in front of him,” York continued for her, wanting to pick up from her slow, angry pace, “but I also kissed North in front of his crush. Yes, Carolina, I really am that terrible of a person. But let's assume, just for a _moment_ that my feelings for Wash are serious too. Which would mean I kissed my boyfriend in front of _our_ crush, who has feelings for at least one of us.”

“You look almost happy with that realization,” Carolina sighed, shaking her head. “No, York. I don't know what you're planning, but _no_.”

York grinned as he leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on her desk. “Now Carolina, I'm offended that you'd think I'd be up to something. I solemnly swear I am going to behave.”

She rolled her eyes at that statement. “Get your feet off my desk before I get them off.” And almost immediately she sighed at her word choice and that only made York smile more widely. “I will punch you.”

“But that would require you getting up and walking all the way around the desk,” he pointed out, reaching into his pocket to draw his phone out when he felt it vibrate. 

_Wish you hadn't done that,_ North's message read, and York bit back a grin as he hit the reply button. 

_So I'm being told by his big sis._

_He has a sister?_

_Not really, but she acts like it. Says he's got the hots for you._

“You seem far too pleased with your phone,” Carolina sighed. “There's already something going on and no amount of threatening you is going to stop it, will it?”

“Frankly, Carolina? No,” York chuckled as he waited for North's response. “Because it occurs to me... You've always objected to _me_ going out with Wash, right? But you've never said anything about my _boyfriend_ going out with Wash.”

She stared at him, vibrant green eyes narrowing dangerously. Part of York wanted to recoil from that, but the phone was vibrating in his hand, and he had to look at it. 

_That... complicates things, doesn't it?_

_Not if you're willing to try something a bit different tomorrow morning._

_Being?_

_Oh, I've got allllll sorts of plans, North. We'll talk later. Gotta make sure Carolina doesn't kill me before afternoon hits._

* * * * * *

“I'm not sure about this,” North sighed, leaning against the wall just beyond the doors of the bakery. 

“I am,” York countered easily, and he radiated such confidence that North almost wanted to smile. Almost. “Trust me, North. This will work.”

“I haven't known you long enough to be quite comfortable with crazy schemes,” North pointed out, shaking his head. The reluctance made sense. They'd only met four days before, when North had been running late—and still made time to banter with Wash—and North had literally stumbled over the handsome man. They'd talked, York had asked him out, and frustrated by yet another day in yet another month of his flirting with Wash getting nowhere, North had said yes.

He didn't regret any of it, he just didn't really _know_ York half so well as he thought he should before facing this sort of situation. 

“This isn't a crazy scheme,” York insisted all the more energetically for North's hesitance. “I told you, Carolina said...”

“I don't know this Carolina either,” North sighed, shaking his head. “You have to know how ridiculous this sounds. We're talking about...”

“Nope, no more talking. Time for the doing.”

There was a hand wrapped suddenly around his wrist and North found himself being dragged forward. Really, he needed to be more careful around York. The smaller man didn't look nearly as strong as he'd proven to be in their time together. So really, North had no choice but to follow York through the door and into the cafe. 

“Good mor-” Wash's voice called from behind the counter as York stopped abruptly and North found himself almost slamming into his boyfriend's shoulder. “Morning.”

The cheerful tone that Wash finished on rang almost sour in North's gut. When he caught his balance—dammit did York have to choose that moment to slide his grip down to North's hand and lace their fingers together—North found himself looking into Wash's gaze and finding it a bit colder than he was used to. The normal warm, accommodating, and genuinely cheerful baker was so chill that the temperature of the room almost seemed to fall a few degrees. 

“The usual for us both,” York breezed as North felt a tug on his hand pulling him forward to the counter. 

“Right... One moment,” Wash answered and North couldn't help but tug York back enough to whisper in his ear. 

“I thought you had a plan. This just sounds like breakfast.”

“Give it a moment. It's all about timing,” York assured him, punctuating it with a firm squeeze of his fingers. It left North with nothing to do but sigh and shake his head. 

This was a mistake. The worst sort of mistake. 

North's attention was pulled back to the counter as he heard the familiar crinkle of a paper bag, and found the normal smile from the beautiful baker utterly lacking. 

“Will there be anything else?” Wash asked, his voice brushing briefly up against courteous, but mostly landing square in the territory of upset. 

“Hmmmm... Well, there is one problem with the order,” York said, and all North could do was turn to stare at him. Wash had never once messed up his order. It was too much of a regular thing for it to be possible when the younger man greeted him by name every morning. 

“And that is?”

“It only covers breakfast. Clearly it must be an oversight,” York shrugged. 

No. No, this could _not_ be the way York was going to go about this. North actually opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Wash. 

“If you want something beyond breakfast, you have to order it,” Wash sighed, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Alright. Dinner, tonight. Deangelo's. Eight,” York answered, a grin in his voice and when North looked, there was a stupidly confident one on his lips as well. 

“What, your boyfriend isn't going to mind?” Wash asked, his tone almost flippant as North looked back at the blond, and surely this conversation wasn't one that was actually happening. 

“Mind?” York came back almost immediately. “Why would he do that? North's going to be paying, aren't you babe?”

“I'm... what?”

“Your boyfriend is going to pay for me going to dinner with you, York?” Wash laughed, shaking his head. 

“No. He's going to pay for you going to dinner with _us_ , David.”

There was silence for a long moment, except for a deep chuckle somewhere beyond the counter in the kitchen, and North couldn't find any way to react other than to stare at York, mouth hanging open. He... he didn't just say that, did he?

“Seriously, you two have the _exact_ same expression right now,” York chuckled. “And I'm serious. About all of it. David, come to dinner with us. I promise you a good time.”

“Oh god... I'm dating an idiot,” North found himself whispering as he stared at York.

“Two.”

North blinked a few times before looking toward Wash. “Did you say some...”

“Two. If I'm understanding York correctly, you're dating _two_ idiots.”

“See?” York said, his hand squeezing North's once again. “I told you. Plan worked. Now you definitely have to pay for dinner.”

Somehow... that didn't seem like much of a punishment. Not with the way Wash was beaming at them.


End file.
